


Flat Mates

by TheGreatFantasticalEscapism



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, College, Dyslexia, Fluff, Friendship, I wrote this at three AM, Inez is a helpful bean, Jan Van Eck Bashing, Jesper is a disaster bi, Jesper is a disaster pan, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Nina is a disaster bi, Tags will be updated when I'm not brain dead, That's the intent because I need to voice my dysphoria somehow, Trans Male Character, Trans Wylan van Eck, booo jan van eck sucks, dreg friendship yay, everyone should have an inej, kaz is still a crime boss, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatFantasticalEscapism/pseuds/TheGreatFantasticalEscapism
Summary: Some people may think the eldest Van Eck lived a charmed life. Most of them are fortunate enough to never know that his life isn't all that wonderful. Most of them are fortunate enough to have fathers who strive to be the best father they can be. Fortunate enough to have fathers to whom the idea of not cherishing an imperfect child. Wylan is not one of these fortunate people.And this eldest Van Eck doesn't exist any more.Wylan Hendriks does though. And no one cares about Wylan Hendriks.Until, that is, he responds to a advertisement looking for flat mates. And suddenly for the first time ever he feels like he belongs. Like he's wanted.And there's Jesper...But, they don't know. And if they learn what's wrong with Wylan, what happens to Wylan?Previously titled If I'm Being HonestAndUnfortunately, he belonged again.Because I'm shit at titles
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 21
Kudos: 61





	1. First Impressions

By the time they boarded the ship from Novyi Zem, Jesper had resigned himself to the position of Colm Fahey’s second favorite child.

Inej had spent the last week of summer’s leave on the Fahey farm, and in that time period, she had; pinned an advertisement for a new flatmate, significantly decreased the time and increased the enjoyment of weeding jurda fields, put up with joke, after joke, after horrible joke from both Faheys (both Jesper’s upbeat sarcasm, and Colm’s good-natured jests), finished her summer assignments, helped encourage Jesper to do his own, and had sat in a small pile of cow bile helping Da bring a bloated, choking bovine back from the edge of death.

Jesper was sure Da was considering how to bring up the subject of adoption to her.

But the week had come and gone, and the boat had set ashore at the docks of Ketterdam. A cab brought them to the three-bedroom apartment they had affectionately labelled the Slat. The sun went down as they unpacked, as Inej cooked beans and Jesper boiled rice, as they discussed their individual summers, as they talked of how prepared they were for the new school year, (Inej, plenty; Jesper, not at all). How long until the next break. (Too long). If Inej wanted to stay with them then. (Absolutely). And finally…

“How long till the rest of them get here?” Jesper requested, drumming his fingers on his long empty bowl.

Inej bit her lip, picking up the bowls and moving towards the sink, only to be stopped by a bounding Jesper, taking the bowls from her. “Nina and Matthias be here tomorrow evening.”

Jesper nodded, pausing a moment to wipe down the dishes. It wasn't that he didn't care about Nina and Matthias. But, they weren't who he was asking after “And Kaz?” He asked, innocently.

“Who knows? It’s Kaz.”

“Hand me the soap. Do you reckon he’ll be here soonish?” He drummed his fingers on the sink, handing a bowl to Inej to dry. “‘Cause we have that whole, new flatmate advertisement, and we’re gonna need his vote.”

“Are you worried about the new flatmate, or are you nervous about seeing Kaz again?”

“Damn. Inej, And here I thought I’d have to worry about Nina calling me out.” He laughed, maybe a little too strongly, turning back around to face the Suli girl. “Can it be both? Because it’s both. I’m a bundle of nerves.”

Inej smiled.

* * *

Wylan van Eck was tired of staring at himself in the mirror. But here he was, eyebrows furrowed as his too-blue eyes traced his reflection from head to toe for the billionth time. His red gold locks were neatly curled out of his eyes. His suit was just baggy enough that he could pretend he didn’t have curves despite the slight pulling of his undershirt around his chest. He was slouching, he noticed, forcing himself to stand straighter, maybe just a little taller. Not that that did much.

He clutched his cut-out newspaper clipping in one hand, the advertisement Kuwei had seen, and read to him, in the other, his measly bag of whatever few belongings he had. His flute, his phone with his cracked screen, a few changes of clothes, and about one hundred and thirty _kruge._ And as he walked out of the junky pub bathroom, he squeezed his cut up advertisement, his grasping straw of freedom, harder, to the point where it was a crumpled square. He tried to recite it in his brain as he walked the streets, trying to find the right numbers, the numbers that might mean actual independence for the first time in his life.

**_Wanted!_ **

**_A Flatmate to Help Share Rent Five_ **

**_(5) university students at the Ketterdam Kampus seek a flatmate to help split rent._ **

**_Current residents include; one (1) Senior, (Matthias Helvar), two (2) juniors, (Kaz Brekker and Nina Zenik), and two (2) sophomores, (Jesper Fahey and Inej Ghafa)._ **

**_Applicants are preferred, but not required to be: A university student._ **

**_Applicants may completely disregard ad if: You’re a bigoted sack of dicks._ **

**_Premises are 3 bed/1 bath/2 .5 bath. Rent: 70 Kruge a month. Followed by the address._ **

Wylan had never heard of these people before. Except Kaz Brekker, who’s rumors were widespread. The stories he’d heard… were less than child-safe. To put it mildly. But the ad was promising. And cheap. And Wylan wasn't a child anymore. So, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, squeezed his sheet of paper, and knocked on the door.

And then he waited.

He could hear jabbering behind the door in the next few minutes that followed. But soon, the door swung open. And in the door frame was a tall, dashingly handsome, dark skinned boy in pajamas, with hair that almost vanished down his head, and the most perfect, most kissable lips Wylan had ever seen. “Hi! You here about the ad?”

Even his voice was alluring, a low rich drawl, with an accent that Wylan had never heard before. “I…. what? Yes.” He nods, snapping out of his trance, crushing the paper in his palm while he nods and tries to smile. “The ad. For the flat. That’s why I’m here.”

The Zememi laughed, heartily, like his laugh alive and bouncing off the walls, while he swished his hand, and walked back into the room. “I’m Jesper Fahey. Come on, lemme introduce yah.” 

And Wylan followed this strange figure through the door frame, only slightly processing the door slam behind him as he entered. His advertisement cut out now only a wad of paper in his palm. He could just process the shouts coming from the end of the hallway, aimed at Jesper. Though it took Wylan a second the understand both that there was noise, that there was anything except this long-limbed, bewitching creature. And it took him a bit more to understand that the shouts were not a cry to kick him out, because he surely didn't belong.

“Who’s at the door?”

“Who’s that?”

“Flatmates!” That one, he noticed, came from a girl popping chicken nuggets in her mouth and pumping her fist in the air. Encouraging.

Now that he was focusing, there were a total of six people in the room, including him. A girl with a long braid and a salad was cross legged on the ground, a blond giant frowning at the girl who welcomed him. Jesper, now sitting in the middle of the floor, and a boy in a ratty arm ch, her head tilted at him, in some mild form of curiosity. Like a cat's. Next to her, was a blond giant, who looked as if he had just came out of a fairy tale about knights in shining armor, who had emptied a can of something in the time Wylan had been watching him. Chicken Nugget girl was next to him, touching his leg. And in an armchair, the only one not sitting on the floor among what must have been piles of fried chicken and potatoes and rolls- and _Ghezen, he was interrupting dinner-_ Was a boy in a suit, leaning forwards on a sliver tipped cane. A crow rest it on it. _Kaz Brekker_. He had to be.

Jesper sat down besides the catlike girl, and waved his arms about the room, before popping a few Kaelish Fries into his own mouth. "Right. So, the chick trying to her all her chicken nuggets in one go," he points loosely at the girl who was the most enthusiastic about Wylan's intrusion, who now wiggled her eyebrows at him, "Is Nina. Never, ever leave any food around her that you actually want to eat later. Or waffles. No. Especially waffles."

He points towards the blond giant, who had moved on from his drink to another. Apparently fairytale knights didn't need food. "That's Matthias. Nothing can touch him, because he has the power of God _AND_ anime on his side."

The blond grunted.

He gestures towards the girl with the plait, “That’s Inej. She’s probably some sort of goddess in disguise. She keeps us all functioning. Alive. _And_ scheduled.”

She smiles, waving at Wylan.

He points at Brekker. “That’s Kaz. He’s like Batman, if batman were a total slytherin, and also a mafia crime boss.”

Kaz nodded.

Nina, who’s finally swallowed her chicken nuggets, points at Jesper. “This is Jesper, who has definitely masturbated with a gun at some point."

“Jesper, the reason we can’t do weekly card games anymore.” Matthias offers.

“Jesper, who’s definitely convinced teachers to leave the profession.” Kaz suggests, smirking over at the Zememi, trying to defend himself.

“Jesper,” starts Inej, voice strong and steadfast, and final, quieting the others, “an excellent friend who’s heart is always in the right place.”

Wylan nods, still standing. Perhaps that’s a testament to how out of place he feels, watching them bicker. Like friends. He’s standing up because he’s the jackass who doesn’t know these people, who isn’t one of them.

They could all probably read too.

They were all probably right at home in their bodies.

“Now tell us about yourself.” A raspy, stone voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He swallows, squeezing his crushed piece of paper until he can feel his nails on his skin.

“I’m Wylan Hendriks. I’m a second year, chemical engineering major.”

“Where’d you spend last year for board?”

“With my dad, but that’s not an option anymore.” Wylan closes his eyes now. Ready for the next question that was sure to come.

“Why not?” He can hear the sympathy in Jesper’s baritone -maybe a little genuine interest?- and he draws in a deep breath.

“Because it’s suffocating. Because I can't breathe when I look at him. Because.... because I'm not going to live, trying to please someone who can't be happy with me as I am." He recites, just like he had with Kuwei. It sounds monotonous to his own ears. But he can feel tears start to well.

Nina looks at Jesper, who looks at Inej, who looks at Kaz.

“Do you have the money?”

Wylan nods.

“The position is yours.”


	2. Hangovers, Breakfasts, and Flags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I'm tired and not happy with this but screw me amirite  
> that first paragraph is a little autobiographical  
> Send help  
> and feedback
> 
> or don't  
> you do you

When Wylan woke up, for a few minutes at least, the only thing that was real to him was the splitting headache that lived in his head. He couldn’t hear anything, sight was unnecessary, time was an illusion, feeling wasn’t real. There was just pain.

And boy. Did it hurt. 

Why did it hurt? 

He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut until it dulled. It wasn’t gone, but he could focus on things now. Like, for one, he was pretty sure he was in a bed he certainly wasn’t in when he passed out last night. And for two, on the other side in the room, was Jesper, covers thrown off, sleeping in his boxers.

Now, in addition to his headache, his cheeks burned. He was prepared to wipe off melted skin from his shirt at this point. 

His eyes flitted away from the not-entirely unwelcome spectacle. Anywhere else really. Was Jesper his roommate? Maybe. The splitting pain from his head washed over him again, distorting his memory. 

His throat burned as he sat up and breathed. In. Out. He hit himself with the palm of his hand. That did not help the assault on his thinking parts.

_ Water. _

Water helped… dehydration? That sounded right. Was this dehydration?... Wylan couldn’t tell. His head felt heavy. He forced himself to sit up. 

His limbs were heavy. His eyelids were too. 

He passed out again.

When Wylan woke up again, though, in all fairness, maybe that which had come before him was a fever dream, Jesper was once again clothed. That was almost unfortunate. 

_ No it isn’t.  _ He chided himself.

The other, much taller boy was bouncing on his bed in beat to a tune he was humming. His legs were pulled in criss cross, and his eyes were closed. He had wires dangling out of his ears.

_ He’s a robot,  _ was Wylan’s first thought.  _ No he isn’t. Shut up,  _ was his second.

He sat up for the second time this morning, rubbing his forehead, that still dully throbbed. The room wasn’t _ bright _ , but it wasn’t easy on the eyes either. Behind Jesper was a saturated flag in pink yellow and blue, the blankets were practically neon, and there were fairy lights running around the walls. His bag was thrown crudely over the edge of the bed. He reached to grab it and winced as the bed creaked under his weight.

Jesper didn’t move, eyes still closed as Wylan watched him carefully, grabbing his bag. 

His phone tumbled out with a thunk.

Jesper’s eyes darted at him, pulling an earphone out of his ear. “Morning person?”

“I’d prefer not to be conscious right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” Wylan grumbled, pulling his bag to his chest. 

Jesper barked out a laugh, as he pulled out the other earphone. “Big mood. Sleep well, Sunshine?”

“My only memory of last night was a feverish hash. So, better than normal.” He took another glance at Jesper, who was giving him this annoying, amused look.

The Zemeni vaulted himself out of the bed, on his feet in seconds. “Want the grand tour? It’s just us, so I can…” He winked. “Show you all the best snogging spots."

Wylan squeezed his bag tighter to his chest. “I’m going to get dressed now.”

"What's the harm in an audience?"

Wylan flushed. 

* * *

Jesper was all nerves and restless energy. He was always like this the first few days he was in the city. Sure, the city was fun. But you couldn’t go out into the woods and shoot things without care in the city, now could you.

No.

That was  _ kind of  _ a crime. 

Not that that had ever stopped him. 

He needed to get out. But here he was, mug of only  _ slightly  _ darker-than-Kaz’s-heart coffee he had burnt nested in his hands, cream and sugar dumped in it, some jelly toast on the table. Waiting for Wylan to get dressed. Shy little kitten, that one. 

It wasn’t that Wylan  _ wasn’t  _ cute, per say. And could he really blame the kid for being on edge? No. No he couldn’t. 

It was more that he wasn’t Kaz.

But Jesper wasn’t about to admit that to himself. 

* * *

Wylan stumbled out of the room, to the hallway, apparently changed, though Jesper didn’t see much difference in the baggy sweater he was wearing now, and the oversized tee shirt he was sleeping in. But, hey. Who was Jesper, in all his neon plaid glory, to judge someone else’s clothing? 

He loosely thrust some slightly burnt toast at Wylan, mumbling a greeting through a mouthful of his own. "You clean up nice, Sunshine."

Wylan muttered something, hesitantly taking the toast. That was cute. 

_ Stop it, Jes. You've known him less than a day,  _ One part of him shouted. 

Another shouted back,  _ And you've already seen his sleepwear. That's fair game.  _

"What  _ happened  _ last night?" Wylan asked, taking a pensive bite out of Jesper's perfectly blackened toast.

"Last night being the night you stumbled in on the party with a beaten up suitcase?"

"No, the other night, where I came in with a suit and a flute solo." Wylan deadpanned, looking straight into Jesper's soul.

"Play the flute, huh? That's a marketable skill." He grinned, leaning in to watch the redhead blush. It was so easy. He was starting to gain a respect for Nina's gift of innuendo. "We just stayed up later than we shoulda and drank too much. Why, gotta hangover?"

Wylan wolfed the toast down with such speed you would have thought he'd not eaten in a week. His arms did look kinda scrawny, come to think of it. Jesper briefly wondered if you could see his ribs if you pulled his shirt up. He did not answer the hangover question, Jesper noted. 

Jesper waved a hand dramatically in the air, letting his  _ exquisite  _ singing voice echo around the room.  _ "I can show you the world... shiny, shimmering, splen-did... Now, tell me princess... when did you last let your heart decide?" _

When he looked back at Wylan, the little flute player had tensed up, still staring at Jesper with some look that made him feel a pit in his stomach. "Not an  _ Aladdin _ fan?"

"...Aladdin's fine. Don't worry about it." Wylan looked like he just about forced himself into that smile. Jesper silently decided that no more Aladdin shall grace his ears. "So… tour, right?"

"Naturally Sunshine. Waiting on you." 

* * *

Jesper lead Wylan all around the Slat, enthusiastically pointing at various corners interesting things had happened in. He showed him the bedrooms, the closets, the bathroom, and the kitchen. He found a way to flirt in every conversation, winking, touching, subtle lines. All served to work Wylan up into a beet red flush. And in the end, Jesper got him in bed.

Or, at least, Wylan was sitting on his bed, staring at Jesper, and Jesper was sitting on his bed, staring at Wylan. 

"So," Jesper started, drumming with his fingers against his knee. "Chemical engineering, huh? Sounds difficult."

Wylan snapped back to focus, red gold curls poofing in front of his face as he jerked up. "Not really? I'm good at it, I think. It's easier than other things. But I’d rather study other stuff."

"Other things like… flute?'

"Yes! Well… Yeah. Music. Art. Math. I don't even really like chemistry. I'm just good at it." 

"Why are you studying something you don't like?"

"What's your major?"

"That's avoiding the question. I don't have a major yet. I don't have to choose one till next semester, I'm still trying to figure out what fits, yah know?"

"Well, what do you like?"

"I dunno. Guns. Cards. Girls. Can't exactly talk to girls in equations though."

"Girls?'

"Well, not  _ just _ girls." Jesper vaguely gestured behind him where that pride flag Nina got him for Christmas last year. "I'm pan."

Wylan's brow furrowed, and he leaned forwards. "Pan?" 

"Yeah, pansexual? I like everyone. I'm quite the sexual humanist."

"Isn't that just bi though? Why not just use that?"

"Umbrella terms, Wy, umbrella terms. Pan's kinda a subset of Bi. Gender doesn't factor into my attractions  _ at all.  _ And, some people use bi trans-exclusively. It's like a heads-up that I'm all inclusive."

Wylan blinked a few times, swallowing. Then he nodded. "Hence the bag of dicks line in the ad."

"Aha! That was my contribution! I'm surprised Inej let that one through." Now Jesper was grinning like a madman. 

"I should have figured that out before now. It was either you or Nina."

"Nina was very proud of me, I'll let you know. She's bi, by the way. Got me the flag. She's got one too. We exchanged last year."

Wylan was quiet for a minute, looking thoughtful before he whispered, "Do I get a flag too?"

"Huh?"

"I'm gay. Can I have a flag?"

"That can be arranged,” Jesper sang with a wink.


	3. Flags, Haircuts, and Beat 'em ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, another chapter i'm not entirely proud of because i'm sure i wrote them ooc and i'm mad
> 
> This would have been out sooner, but i had the slightlest bit of an i-can't-handle-the-world where i couldn't write or draw or do anyhing because i felt like i was shit. 
> 
> But, here.  
> I thought there was some funny bits.

For a little bit, they just floated around together in their collective room. But ever unfortunately, but inevitably, Wylan straightened his hair, made his bed, and then. As the fates demand, he had to flee Jesper’s warm smiles with a shy return grin of his own, to visit the administration's office. Which, from the way Wylan said it, did not sound like much fun. 

Jesper then floated on his own. Waiting. 

What was he waiting for? One part of his brain argued that he'd never needed to wait around for someone to take him out with. The other part argued that he was lonely, and it was better to go out with friends. 

He could tell himself the truth, that he'd made a promise to his Da that he'd stay out of trouble. Jesper just  _ kne _ w he'd get into trouble without a... 

_ Babysitter, _ said the part of his brain that was intent on troublemaking.

_ Chaperone, _ corrected the other, not entirely convinced itself. 

Either way, he didn't like any of those words.

He cracked his knuckles aimlessly against the bedpost. The soothing sound of gas releases around the room, using all of his willpower not to break the finger that refused to pop. It was a harder challenge than he ever would have admitted. 

Wylan probably didn't have that problem.

No, Wylan was calm and rational. Collected.  _ Wylan  _ probably didn't have a relentless urge to go shoot things and throw away his life's savings on a whim with terrible odds. 

Oh, Boy! Was that the door?

He bounced up from his bed, diving towards the door, and pulling it open to let Nina strut through the doorway, Matthais in tow, following like a leashed puppy. 

"Nice waffle date, I take it?" Jesper hopped on a bar stool, grinning at Nina, waggling his eyebrows. "Now, why wasn't I invited again,"

"Matthais almost wasn't invited, and he paid."Nine quipped, taking a seat next to Jesper.

"Right, right." Jesper leaned back on his chair, trying to figure out how to phrase his request, until the chair gave way and he landed on his ass. Still smiling ever so smugly, he'd like to add. "Nina, I need you to come with me to TK's." he said, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

"The pride cafe? Wh-"

"I'll explain on the way! Saintspeed!"

* * *

For nearly the second time today, Wylan was forced to choose between adequately expressing his emotions and the ability to breathe. 

His hand gingerly reached up to touch what was left of his hair, his silky shorn locks littering the floor. 

He hadn't cut it all off. But he'd shortened the length quite a bit. Except for the chunks that framed his face, his red hair barely touched his ears. 

He pushed the curls that framed his face away with a glance at the mirror that told him it wasn't worth dissecting his insecurities in this public bathroom. 

That did not stop him from touching his face, because, try as he might, he looked like a puppy, or a crossdresser, maybe, and not a man. He felt like a poorly made puppet, decked out in dresses and kohl to hide the fact it would break if you touched it.

That wasn't anything new, now was it? 

No.

No, it was not.

And here he was, in the restaurant bathroom that he made all of his impulsive decisions in.

Like cutting his hair.

And getting flatmates.

Wylan sighed, sweeping his hair into a trash can, and pushing himself out of the door.

This was fine.

He had an appointment to get to after all.

* * *

The appointment had gone reasonably well. His haircut was a horrible idea, in hindsight, but the meeting was decent.

They pleasantly told him that he could change the name on the scholarship if he legally changed his name and brought them the certificate. 

Which cost money. 

Which Wylan certainly did not have. 

He huffed, and pushed his hands in his hoodie pockets, strolls through the streets of Ketterdam, contemplating the legality of just selling some internal organs to afford rent and food  _ and _ legal name changes. 

Honestly, his kidney was probably worth more dismembered from his body than attached to it.

Wylan felt beads of sweat break across his back under the hoodie, silently cursing himself for wearing the overshirt in this  _ it's-not-summer-anymore-but-bitch-you-better-burn _ weather. 

He looked through the shop window and groaned, pawing at his hair. That was a stupid decision. He looked stupid. 

His eyes unfocused on his hair, and he gazed into the bar he'd been staring at. It looked pleasant enough. But alcohol wasn't really his thing 

_ Unless Jesper was involved  _ that tiny little bad idea demon rang in his ear. 

He told it very politely to suck a cactus.

Wylan's eyes flitted back to the bar, sighing again. He stopped sighing, and started choking when he saw someone getting beaten to a bloody pulp with a cane. 

It was a gruesome scene to watch, and Wylan felt bile building up in his throat as he watched, unable to look away as this man got his nose beaten in. He nearly called for help before remembering that this was Ketterdam.

Nobody gave a shit if you were beaten up in a bar. 

And the beater had just looked back and winked at Wylan

Shit.

Was that Kaz Brekker?

Wylan leaned into the window, trying not to bite his lip off while he traced the boy's face.

And there was no denying it. 

The boy beating the grown ass man until his blood was all you could see on the floor was one of his flatmates.

Maybe this was a sign.

An omen from Ghezen.

_ Hey, Wylan, I know you're broke and all, but if you don't pay rent, your flatmate'll beat you up like he's doing this guy. Good luck!  _

That was an encouragement to get into the economy if he'd  _ ever _ seen one. 

When Kaz was satisfied that the man was beaten into submission, he kicked him in the guts and strolled out. He was smirking at him. "Wylan."

Wylan sputtered, staring intensity at Kaz's bloody cane, slightly shell shocked. He wasn't sure he'd actually believed it was Kaz. 

"Wylan. Need a job?"

"Ka-What?"

"A job, Wylan. Tending the bar. Think you can manage that?"

"You want me to be a bartender? You can just hand out jobs?"  _ No no no no there was no way Kaz Brekker was the owner of a bar. There was no way that Kaz Brekker could give him a job.  _

"Well, if you keep asking questions, then no. I don't want you to tend the bar. Nice hair by the way." Kaz growled at him, walking down the streets. "Come."

Wylan scurried behind him, his back officially drenched. The hoodie wasn't a good idea. "Listen, I have no idea how to bartend."

"Didn't ask." 

"I won't be able to read the orders," Wylan blurted. And immediately regretted saying anything, 

"What was that, Hendriks?"

"I'm dyslexic. I can't  _ read."  _ No point in keeping him in the dark anymore. Wylan was doing a lot of sighing today. 

"Bartenders aren't known for their literacy. You'll be fine,"

"Do I get a say in my own employment?"

"No."

Well. That was that then. 

It wasn't the worst of his deficiencies. But it was right up there with being musically focused and not being a girl. 

And now, Kaz Brekker knew.

Of all people.

Well, if you had to share your secrets, best to share them with someone with a coal mine for a heart, and an abyss of them himself. 

Today was a shit day, really.

* * *

Jesper absolutely beamed the entire walk home from TK's. He had Wylan's brand new rainbow flag wrapped up in plastic and squeezed to his chest. A bright smile adorned his face, accompanied by a warm twinkling in his eyes. He even had glitter in his hair.

Nina, on the other hand, looked amused. She munched down on the colorful pastries she'd taken the opportunity to buy while Jesper ran around like a kid in a candy store. Holding up various pride merch, and beaming at her. Little flags, big flags, pins, pens, t-shirts and more!

Jesper had one of the pens tucked behind his ear. It was in over saturated pan colors. It looked like a sunrise in the dark next to Jesper's dark hair. 

When he'd pulled Nina out the door and dragged her down the streets of Ketterdam, he'd been rambling about something to do with the weather and boredom and classes starting soon. 

Nina did not believe this was the reason she'd pulled him out.

Under mild questioning, he'd set the record straight.

Well. 

Gay.

" _ So _ , Jesper. Remind me why I'm needed for you to go flirt with people at TK's?"

"I'm not flirting  _ at TK's  _ Nina. We're getting a pride flag."

"We  _ have _ pride flags, Jes."

"Wylan doesn't."

"Ohhh. I knew there was a reason I liked him."

Jesper nodded enthusiastically. "Apparently his dad was a real 'phobe, so he never got any pride merch. Or got the ability, to, you know, be casually out."

"Probably why he's not staying with him this year." Nina nodded with him, though much slower. "Why do you need my help with getting him a flag though?"

He paled. "You're good at it? And I'll buy you waffles."

"I just had waffles."

"And?"

"You make a fair point."

Jesper grinned and dragged her away.

* * *

When Wylan returned to the Slat, he wasn't sure what to think. He'd just watched a man turn into a bleeding cocoon by his flatmate, who'd offered him a job. And he had a shitty haircut to boost.

He strolled through to his room, avoiding Nina and Matthais in the living room, watching some rom com. He was pretty sure Matthais picked it. 

Not that he was going to ask.

He turned the handle to his room, before running a hand through his hair. He dropped the door knob, and winced.  _ Why did I cut my hair? _

_ Because you're a worthless idiot.  _

That didn't help. He already  _ knew _ that.

He turned the door handle, and plummeted on his bed, groaning. 

And then sitting upright because he had landed on a living being. 

Jesper had bounced awake too, rainbow fabric in his arms. And Wylan just stared.

"Didn't know you were so eager to hop in bed." Jesper whispered, his voice a little tense. "What happened to your hair?"

Wylan groaned, planting his face in a pillow so maybe the Zemini would miss the blush. "I'm an idiot."

"Okay, don't tell me. Gotcha something, by the way." He held up the rainbow flag. that Wylan blinked at for a moment, before realization dawned on him, making his face look as stupid as he was. 

"A pride flag," he said, in hushed, awed tones. "You got me a pride flag.  _ Ghezen _ , you're amazing." 

"I know. I tried to get it up." he winked. "But it was a little hard to do on my own." Another wink. God, Wylan was beat. Beet colored too. "I'll need your help." A final wink. Wylan swallowed. 

"Sure. We can put up a pride flag." 

* * *

They could not put up a pride flag. 

They tried, and even Jesper had to admit, Wylan, for all his baggy hoodies and voice with the range of a flute turned out to be very good at figuring out how to do things.

However, Wylan's cunning and Jesper's farm strength did not help them. They ended up having to have Inej and Nina put it up for them. Wylan was pink the whole time. 

But, in the end, there was a pride flag up. And that was what mattered, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about  _ who _ put it up, it was put up.

And Jesper was willing to take this as a victory. 

And besides all that, Wylan looked thrilled, staring up at the flag from Jesper’s bed. Like a scene out of a painting. A painting Jesper was just fine staring at from beside him. "So… like it?"

"Saints yes! It's great. I never thought I'd ever have one, honestly."

"Your dad?"

Wylan nodded, leaning to put his back against the wall. "Thank you. So much,"

And, together they beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember children! Feedback!   
> I strive off of it.
> 
> Thanks for reading this... thing


	4. Biscuits. Breakdowns, and Booze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaa! i'm back after nearly getting kicked out of my house, discovering new podcasts (Welcome to Night Vale and The Magnus Archives)  
> And RBG dying which means i may lose my rights maybe yeah?  
> But you're here for the fic, leave your thoughts and all that jazz in the comments

Jesper woke up to the smell of food. The beautiful, sensational, world-changing fragrance of burning cinnamon. 

That it took that much was a feat in itself. He must have had a long night.

He stole a glance across the room to Wylan’s bed. A smile plastered his fast when he saw the rainbow fabric. It rippled over the sleeping boy it hung by.  _ That _ was his long night. 

He did that. 

Him. 

Jesper. 

Clearly he  _ was _ capable of doing good things. 

This information he stashed somewhere in a mental filing cabinet. To ward away his brain when it wouldn’t get out of his head.

It frequently stayed in his head. Brains were inconsiderate that way. 

He pulled himself out of the bed. He pulled a t-shirt on too. It hung around his form all wrong. Probably one of Da's. 

He groaned as he stumbled through his room to the door. His stomach began to roar as if it were about to launch him through the air like a starving cartoon character. Da had always said Jesper ate like a fish swam. 

Jesper figured it was more probable that he got his black hole of a stomach from a fish than Da. 

He sat down on the very same stool that had betrayed him in front of Nina. He leant across the table and fluttered his eyelashes seductively at Inej. “May I have some of that lovely smelling nutrition, please Miss?”

“He who doesn’t work, doesn’t eat,” Inej replied, pushing a mixing bowl to him. And Jesper lit up when his hands were occupied. Inej, a true saint. Along with Da, she was one of the few to understand Jesper’s restlessness, his needing to move, to do something. If he were to stand still for long periods of time, he was positive he’d slowly go insane.

Maybe Inej didn’t understand. She was stellar at standing still, and doing it quietly. Nothing at all like Jesper, the rambunctious, bright, colorful, loud kid who liked attention and couldn’t sit still. 

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Inej didn’t  _ need _ to understand Jesper and his unbridled energy. She just needed to let him be himself, and to give him a mixing bowl every now and then. 

“Biscuits?” he asked, looking at the trays Inej was preparing. Boy, did that bring back memories. Back to when it was Jesper, and Da, and Jes’s burnt biscuits. 

Ma…

“And sausage.” Inej corrected, putting a tray between them. 

Jesper nodded. “Gotta stay balanced.”

And he did his work, helping Inej here and there. Little things, mostly. Jesper wasn’t a good cook at all. He’d stopped trying a long time ago. But helping mix biscuits and do dishes? He could do that. It was a nice change of pace. 

Matthais came down while Inej was sliding biscuits in the oven. Wolfman looked like he came straight off the battlefield. He might as well have, after trying to waken Nina. He grunted a  _ Hi _ at Jesper and Inej as he started the coffee. 

The atmosphere was unpleasantly tense and yet surprisingly calm. You could shoot it. Probably multiple times. 

_ “Yes. The first days of school are always like this.’,  _ Nina had warned him and Inej last year.

Jesper should probably warn Wylan. 

He craned his neck out the window, only to be greeted by the peaks of the sun curling out from behind the horizon.

Well, that explained a lot.

“Inej,” He tilted his head towards her, plucking a buttered biscuit from her hand. “Did you sleep last night?”

She just smiled at him, fixing the second tray of biscuits. Making them more symmetrical. Waste of time, really. Jesper had done that tray perfectly.

“Was it Kaz? Did he keep you up late?”

“Jes, I’m fine. I was just working.

“The bags under your eyes determine that that was a lie.”

Inej shot him a dangerous glare and took her biscuit back.

That meant he was winning. And that she was definitely, most assuredly, not okay. As him winning often did. 

But just because she didn’t say she wasn’t okay doesn’t mean that Jesper can’t help her. 

Mixing bowls. 

Matthais seemed to have a similar epiphany, handing the coffee cup he had made for himself to Inej. Who promptly pushed it back to him. Because Inej Ghafa was a saint.

Matthais wandered back to whence he came, coffee cup in hand. Probably to take another shot at waking Nina up. The poor soul.

Jesper shook his head softly, taking a good handful of biscuits, a glob of butter and jelly. Morning time was morning time. And he had a schedule full of classes he wasn’t that interested in to prepare for. Oh, the joys of college living.

He headed back down his own hallway, back to his little corner of isolated existence. 

And he heard flute music. Little notes that strongly carried their sound through the closed door and sung into his ears. Wylan hadn’t been kidding. 

He pushed through the door quiet as a particularly loud giraffe, and leaned against the frame.

There was Wylan, donned in a bagged long sleeved shirt and a tight looking button down vest. Short Strawberry gold locks draped around his face. Eyes closed in concentration. Fingers carefully manipulating the flute. Sweet melodies pouring out of it. 

He looked absolutely perfect.

And Jesper became completely infatuated immediately. 

He sat down, spellbound. Biscuits completely forgotten. Wylan was the only thing that mattered at the moment. 

He ruined his one sided moment by sitting back in his bed, and it creaked. Loudly. Wylan’s eyes flicked open and his face flushed all the way to the neck. He gently lowered his flute, staring and blinking at Jesper, like maybe he was an illusion that would go away if he didn’t focus on him. 

Eventually, Jesper broke the silence. “Nice flute.”

Wyl an nodded at him, sitting on his bed now too. “How long were you there?”

“I'm not sure. Biscuit?" He picked up the plate and gestured at Wylan with it. "Made them myself...Well, Inej made them. I helped."

Wylan gingerly took a biscuit, sitting down on 

his bed. He looked incredibly anxious. Jesper realized that it was probably his fault, and rushed his changing into proper clothes.

He had class, after all.

* * *

Wylan, in what was blossoming into a common occurrence, couldn't breathe. He was looking in the mirror, in that damned restaurant bathroom where he made all his worst decisions.

He didn't know why it was this particular bathroom he levitated too. Maybe it was the tea. Lovely Chai tea here. With just a touch of cinnamon that just melted into the cream. It was heaven.

He hadn't tasted heaven in a while. Something about having no money meant that shops wouldn't sell to you. Funny that.  _ Capitalism.  _

But, they continued to let him in to suffer in the bathroom every morning. Maybe it was because he looked like shit, but a slightly more reserved shit than a hobo. Maybe they didn't even notice him. Though they had to, didn't they? Some dark strawberry blond using their bathroom to cut his hair and cry. Without even buying anything, the  _ nerve _ .

That was besides Wylan's problems today. 

Today, Wylan's problem was the sinking pit of dred that had started in his heart, but had dropped down into his thighs. He really, really didn't want to do this.

* * *

The first day of class was always the worst. Wylan would come in and sit as far as he could in the back. Far, far out of the line of sight. He couldn't draw attention to himself back there, be it his appearance- oh Ghezen, his appearance- or the fact no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make the little stupid squiggly lines turn into symbols that should mean something.

They seemed so stupid, so arbitrary, lines that could mean anything at all, or nothing, and he was supposed to lo at them and discover some meaning everyone else saw too? Why did that make any sense? It was just uniform scribbles that people assigned meaning too. It wasn't Wylan's fault that he couldn't glance at them and see it too. 

At least, that's what he told himself, when he starred in book pages for hours and couldn't make out a single word. When his eyes would dull because they couldn't stay open for much longer. Trying so hard to please others that his own well being felt meaningless. 

It wasn't meaningless anymore.

Wylan made that promise to himself when he first found the name 'Wylan' in his mother's family records. 

When he first started calling himself that in his head, just to try it out. To see if it was better. 

It was better. 

Wylan thought it suited him. 

A train of thoughts was started and ended as the door pushed open, and some man walked in, with beady eyes, and a creak in his voice that sounded like he swallowed lit cigars instead of smoking them. His hair was just beginning to gray, falling in sickly locks around his ears. He looked almost like a pleasant old man. Except...

Something. Something in him was cruel. Wylan briefly wondered if he could capture it if he were to draw a likeness. And then, with a creaky, hoarse voice, like nails on- well, not a chalkboard... more like nails on a metal gate- the lecture began.

Wylan didn't remember much from the beginning of the lecture as he flipped his notebook to a blank page and hunted for a pen. But even this was distracted from when the door flew open- flew! and a... Well, the polite term was curvy- a girl with a danish in one hand, and long hair running down her back entered. She had some old retro sweater on, a beanie over her scalp. 

And Wylan dodged down to grab a pen from his bag because that was most definitely Nina Zenik who just walked in. 

This could ruin everything. 

* * *

It was Wylan's fault, in the end. He should have tried to figure out majors, classes, possible chance encounters between his flatmates and prepared. But besides Jesper's lack thereof, he didn't have a clue. 

He really should have seen something coming though. Life never goes well for Wylan Hendriks after all. That would defeat the purpose. 

What would Nina think if she knew? Knew any of it? Knew if he was a van Eck, an idiot, a  _ girl _ . He wasn't a girl. 

But... oh Ghezen. 

How do you even breathe? 

How do you suck in oxygen when your chest feels like an anchor? How do you breath out carbon when it feels like there's a fine net stopping any escape. How do you breathe when your lungs refuse to work, when your skin crawls, when you feel tears blurring your vision?

He needed to run, to get away. How do you do that?

Were his notes ruined? They probably were. This was a nightmare. Why was he here? He was clearly too broken to be here.

This was so obvious. So blazingly obvious, a glaring blight in what was supposed to be his new beginning of good decisions. 

He was probably too dumb to make good decisions. 

Wylan tried to compose himself, he really did. He blinked away his tears, tried to calm his breathing, but he couldn't. He couldn't. He was worthless, useless, and he couldn't breathe. You never really appreciate the term take a breather until your lungs are turning to ashes in your chest. 

And so, he did the most rational thing he could think to do. 

He picked up his stuff calmly, sucked in a breath, and ran as fast as he could away from that classroom. 

* * *

He found himself, tears streaming, in a rose bush of all places. He was sitting there, crying in a rose bush. How... poetic. If he wasn't crying and struggling to breathe he might have reflected on the situation. As it was, he was a little preoccupied.

It burned. He felt the tears touch his skin and it burnt. Good.

It should burn. He was horrible and a failure, and he should burn. Burn like a piece of coal in a useless fire. 

He wanted to believe that someone would come, someone had seen him. But, he knew no one would. No one ever did. And no one should. 

How many times had he locked himself in a closet to cry, alone and miserable? It'd seemed fitting at the time. Like it was where he belonged. Away from the rough words from his father, the looks he would give him of pure contempt.  _ Why'd I have to have a failure for a daughter? _ That look said. 

He didn't know. He didn't know why he was a failure. He just was and he would always be.

The fantasies he'd allowed himself to indulge in when everything was dark and quiet- or as dark and quiet as it ever was in Ketterdam. The fantasies of boys he'd passed by, who he'd seen in the library when his father made him go, completely submerged in a book he'd never be able to read. The fantasies of his father saying Wylan was enough, was always enough, would always be enough for him. The more recent fantasies of his roommate.

None of those could ever, ever come true. 

Because Wylan wasn't enough, was never enough, and would never be enough. 

And that was the truth, was always the truth, and would always be t-

His self moaning was cut short by a shout. A shout of what? 

Another one. "Wylan!"

It was a familiar voice. A girl's he thought. 

Nina's.

He tried to move to get up, but it was as hopeless as he was. He was crying, snot dripping down his nose as this near stranger sat down next to him, and squeezed him. 

He tried to cough out a word but she shushed him, pulling out a chocolate stuffed pastry and handed it to him. 

Handed was a strong word.

She wrenched his hand open and squeezed it closed over the treat. 

This felt dirty. Like his shame was something only he could ever know. The fact that she saw him with his head shoved into his backpack between his knees, sobbing and wheezing… The fact that she'd squeezed him and gave him a pastry… 

None of it made any sense. 

They were supposed to hate him.   
He hated him. 

He turned his head towards Nina and silently pleaded with her. At least, that's what he thought. And she seemed to understand, heaving him up to his feet, steadying him and calling up a cab. 

He felt a pang of guilt as he incoherently rambled nonsense words to her, choking back noises that didn't quite sound human. Another pang as she guided him into the cab, and sat besides him. 

"Class…" he slurred out and she shook her head smiling at him. 

"Friends are more important."

What a goddess. 

* * *

Wylan didn't remember much past then. Nina was gentle to him, so gentle. Helping him curl up on the couch, making chocolate popcorn and tea. Just sitting there with him while he cried.

He still couldn't breathe, but it felt better. 

"So." Nina sat down next to him, her own mug of tea in her hand. She looked like a goddess even then. Maybe that was her secret? She really was a goddess. “How are you feeling?”   
Was there an answer to that question? How do you answer that?  _ ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about the breakdown, I panic and can’t breathe sometimes. It’s a product of my shitty childhood because i was raised to think i needed to apologize for my existence and now any attention that’s shed on me feels like i’m manipulating people because i don’t think people could like and accept me for who i am. Thanks for the tea.’ _

No. That’s far too self aware. Wylan instead mumbled a ‘Fine, thanks.’ and sipped his tea. It seemed like the right thing to do at this point. 

“D’ya wanna talk about it?” She was so nice. Why was she so nice? Yesterday she had pressured and teased him into giving her the last poptart in a pack. Why was he getting gentle words and tea instead of bullying?

“I hate people.” He said, instead of asking the questions that rambled in his head. He tucked his head a little more firmly into the blanket.    
“Pffft same.” She leaned against the armrest, looking him over. “I’m gonna go grab a paper towel, right?”    
He nodded, and curled in further into himself. She was going to want to know why, wasn’t she? He didn’t hate people, not really. Just  _ certain _ people. That was understandable wasn’t it? 

Probably not. He was probably a monster.    
Nina came back, vibrantly waving a paper towel in the air, before pressing it at Wylan. He assumed it was to wipe up the mess that was his face. 

So he did. 

And they just sat there. And didn't talk. Until, like an idiot, Wylan had to because he was blubbering too much to not.

"They won't… won't let me change my name. The college board. Because it takes money."

Nina seemed to perk up at this information, looking over at him. "Yea?"

"Because… because my name… my name isn't… it isn't Wylan. Not on the records. And I was an idiot and I ran _ away,  _ like an  _ idiot _ ."

"So, you're-"

"I'm  _ trans _ Nina. I'm so fucked in the head I don't even think i'm a girl, despite my body." He laughed before sobbing rather violently, shoving the paper towel away, before the back of his neck broke out in a sob. "So… messed up… in the head…"

Nina was quiet for a moment, and the next thing Wylan knew was that he was being squeezed. Not quite the expectation he had. He was thinking more, oh you're a digusting freak get the fuck out. 

"Wylan, you're Wylan, right? It doesn't matter that. You aren't fucked in the head. It's fine."

Wylan quietly scoffed, just sitting in the embrace. It was nice. Like tea and a hot chocolate chip cookie.

"You know what I do when i'm feeling bad?"

He quickly dabbed an eye. "What?"

"Waffles."

* * *

Jesper loved the first day of class. He narrowed it down to his roguishly good looks and his natural charm. He was well-liked, in an attempt to be humble. But well-liked does not stop you from being late to a lecture about minerals on the north side of a campus. 

The pros to this situation was that he had an excellent view of a Miss Magdalena, in the front of the class, her hair tucked in a curly ponytail, and Inej sitting beside him, keeping him focused. 

The cons were, of course, being late.

But none of that mattered to Jesper as he jotted down the barest of bare minimum of information on a pad he's borrowed, confidently getting things wrong. 

Inej was next to him anyway. She'd certainly have amazing notes. She always did. Maybe she'd go down to the range with him tonight. That was always fun. He could offer to pay for dinner… 

But who's money would pay? That was the question wasn't it. Not Jesper's as Jesper had none. 

Maybe Matthais had a few pounds he could borrow. 

_ What was that about rubies? _

He nudged Inej and proceeded to ask, "What was that about rubies?"

"Later."

Ah, yes, one word answers. The best ones. 

He leaned forwards, tapping his fingers against the desk. The click-clack of his nails hitting the wood gave him some sort of focus. Maybe he should invest in a rubik's cube to keep his hands busy while in a lecture. Matthais had suggested that while Jesper bemoaned having to listen to Kaz going off on how they couldn't afford to pay bad staff when he'd shown up covered in blood. 

Why was Kaz always covered in blood? That was probably a health concern. Yes, doctor, no matter what, blood just leaks on to me. I'm a blood magnet. Can you help me?

You could probably get STIs from that come to think of it. He would have to remind him to get tested with him, next time Jes went. 

Which might be very soon with the looks Magdalena was giving him. 

He grinned and waved at her, twirling his fingers in the air. Inej nudged him, giving him that look. You know the one.  _ Jesper _ , it read in a very exasperated tone. 

Jesper could take a hint. He jolted down another note and another note which he tore off and slid to Inej.  _ Shooting Range?  _

He was aching to pull a trigger again, restless. His fingers twitched at the mere idea of it. Shooting something would definitely help put his feet on the ground. 

Or maybe he could play a few rounds at the casinos. That would work fine too. 

It took a few minutes but Inej wrote a note on top of his and slid it back too.  _ 4 to 6 _ . That sounded perfect, and he just nodded in affirmative and settled back into the aching daydreams that would haunt him today. 

* * *

Jes had to appreciate a lesson day that didn't run long. Inej hadn't returned from wherever she was. So, naturally this was an opportunity to find Miss Magdalena. 

Which, naturally, he wouldn't have done. But she was right there, and she looked lovely. 

So, what else was there to do but stalk over to her, a winning smile on his face? Nothing. That's what. 

So, that's what he did, brushing off his coat for a second. 

"Care to go for some waffles sometimes, Mags?"

Miss Magdalena turned over to face Jesper, and he couldn't help but bark a laugh. But, she nodded affirmatively, and gave one vocally too, asking if Friday worked.

Friday worked. 

And, feeling rather pleased, Jesper sauntered back to find Inej, book in hand as she balanced across the fence. 

Always the daredevil, that Inej. 

He applauded and she didn't waver for a second as she looked over at him. What a goddess. 

Inej slid off the fence in a fluid motion, and before Jesper could blink, was next to him. "Hey."

" _ Hey _ . Wanna go shoot things?"

"You certainly do."

"Stop by the Slat to drop off books?" 

"Always."

He grinned as they started their walk home. Taking a cab would have been easier. But, they certainly had the time to kill. And they had the environment to go down with it. 

They walked in relative silence. Jesper didn't mind this for some reason or other. Inej didn't either. It was nice to just exist with another human being.

The Slat was as the Slat always was at four in the evening. Empty. 

Kaz was off doing stuff that was probably extremely illegal. Matthais and Nina would be off somewhere together. And Jesper and Inej would find someplace 5o hang out in the outside world. 

Wylan was a wild card. You never knew where he would be. In the week he'd lived there, at four in the evening, he could be found outside, or in his room, playing the flute. In the living room listening to an audiobook, or in the kitchen trying to bake something based solely off of chemical properties. 

Today he was nowhere to be found. But Matthais was in the living room reading some novel. Probably a romance. Matthais was big on romance and spiritually and not much else. 

Jesper could relate, naturally. 

So he waved a  _ hello, hi, how yah doin',  _ and went to drop his bag off in his room. 

Wylan wasn't in there. But his side was a mess. A big mess. But so was Jesper's. 

So, he dropped his books, grabbed his rifles, and headed down. He was ready to blow the heads off some mannequins. They'd never know what hit them. 

He slid them on his belt like second nature, and bowed to Inej as he slid his own ass down the hallway. " _ Milady _ ."

This would be a helluva night. 

* * *

_ BANG! BANG! BANG!  _

His grip on the handle tightened, and all that was real was the target in front of him and the ringing in his ear. 

_ BANG! _

He pulled the trigger, focusing on every small movement of the barrel. Time slowed down as the bullet flew.

_ BANG!  _

A weight dropped from his shoulder. He was holding up his rifles in front of him again. Shooting again. This was the only time he retained full humanity. 

_ BANG!  _

Well, this and the pubs. The casinos. 

_ BANG! _

The only thing better than shooting was being shot at. 

_ BANG! _

Nothing beat the high of adrenaline when your fate rested on a single split second, a single decision could end your life. 

_ BANG! BANG! BANG! _

The only time you felt truly alive was when you were moments from your life being taken. 

_ BANG! _

Nothing else in the world could beat that. 

_ BANG _ !

* * *

It was a fire of freedom that captured those in its path and let none go unscathed. 

But this fire burned so delightfully, it felt a treasure to return to it's destructive, outstretched arms.

This fire would consume him.He knew it would. But he would revel in every second of it.

Only a fool challenges fate and expects to live a free man. 

Everything was a fight to stay burning just another day. You played with the cards you were dealt.

They were, after all, the only cards you could be certain about.

But what's life without a risk?

_ BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! _

He let out shot after steadying shot. He poured every emotion into each pull of the trigger. 

_ Anger. Guilt. Lust. Frustration. Insecurity. Restlessness. Joy. Admiration. Unrequited feelings. Shame. Illusionment.  _

_ BANG! _

Another weight came off his shoulder with every squeeze of the trigger. Sweat drenched his figure, sticking his clothes to his skin. Soaking his hair. 

It didn't matter.

His fire burnt bright, until it breathed all the life into him he had missed. 

He took another shot at the mannequin. 

Right at the eye.

He didn't miss.

Inej hadn't moved from his side, though she didn't shoot with the same skill, the same love, the same connection, the same passion as he had when he shot. 

She shot to appease Jesper. 

But so did Jesper. 

Thoroughly rejuvenated, he popped the safety back on, and gently replaced the guns into his belt. 

It was an hour past the time they'd agreed to stay. But that didn't matter. 

Inej had already put her weapon away. She was waiting on him. 

That girl would command nations one day, He just knew it. 

He strutted over to her, shining a gleaming grin as he passed her. It was a race to pay for the session. And Jesper won. His long legs gave him the advantage naturally. 

He was ready to take a shower. 

* * *

In the end, it was Inej’s idea to head down by the bar. Which felt out of character. But Jesper was never one to turn down a friendly expedition down to the Crow’s Club. It was always loud, full of energy, and packed with corners to run away to with a pretty face. 

A chance to get wasted was exactly what Jesper was looking for. 

Being wasted meant you didn't half to take any of the blame for your actions, 

Just apologize. 

You could ride the high for days if you did it well enough. 

Da would be so disappointed. 

Jes shrugged on a brighter pink jacket over whatever shirt he happened to have thrown on. It was fine, he looked fine, and he was fine. 

He slid his fingers through his hair. Splashed water on his face. Tied his shoes three ways just to see if he could. 

He should have made his bed earlier. Too late for that now. He'd just have to straighten it up in case he found someone to bring back. 

Inej was behind him before he knew it. Silent as a devious cat planning to kill a poor starving mouse This was a game where he never, ever, turned to be the cat. 

Not that he was always the mouse. 

She smiled at him, softly. Her eyebrows curved up at the end, and her eyes drooped. A whispered prayer touched the ends of her lips. A prayer for who though? Him? or something else.

Maybe he was just too worn out to go drinking. But, Jesper went drinking anyway.

What was he supposed to do? Learn from his actions? When pigs flew. 

* * *

The bar was loud. It was painfully eardrum breaking. Music blasted. People shouted.

Noise. noise. noise. Quiet was difficult here. 

None of that helped the poor boy trying to fix drinks without the slightest clue how to do so. 

It was a living hell. 

* * *

It was loud as always in the Crows Club. Crowded, with people shouting numbers, names, alcohol being sloshed everywhere. Blood splats on the walls, the ominous glare of a hung deer's skull staring at him. 

No one liked that damned deer skull. 

But no one had the nerve to take it down. 

Inej had long since disappeared in the crowd, and Jesper dove headfirst into the liquid courage.

That wasn't true, strictly. He sat on a bar stool, glancing around the room. The boy he was seated by wasn't horrible to look at all. 

Tomorrow was a school day. But fun doesn't know a level of Tuesday hangovers. 

The sound of glass breaking broke him away. 

It had shattered behind him. Blood coated a hand that looked like it had once been holding a glass. The owner of the hand looked at it in horror. 

_ Wylan? _

What was Wylan doing behind a bar, shaking like a leaf, with glass shards digging in his hand. He hadn't screamed. But the pain might not have come up with the shocking pain that kind of damage dealt. 

You didn't need liquid courage to deal with a situation like this. 

You just needed to man up. 

Jesper was off his chair and sliding behind the bar before he could blink. Wylan collapsed but he caught him, and sat him down against the wall, digging around for a first aid kit. 

Leave it to Kaz to not have a first aid kit. Cheapskate. 

He had two options. Leave him or take him to the Dregs. 

So he hoisted Wylan up and walked out the door.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowww you've not updated in a while, what's up?
> 
> School started! I've surrived my third hurricane! Dnd! lots of drawing!  
> Nanowri month preparation! Massive fights with my family because i'm queer.   
> Feedback me people!  
> Also, lack of motivation.  
> Which sucks but here we are.  
> Hope you liked it. drink water wash your hands and sleep


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